Claire's Coming-of-Age Ceremony (11)

The two of them should have confronted Karsein right then and there, firing off questions one after another.

Where on earth had he been all this time, doing what, to only show up now?

He was a Bagrand too, so why had he left his family's birthday celebration at will, dragging down both the mood and the family's honor?

They should have pressed him, interrogated him, called him out on it.

But this was no atmosphere in which to hold a conversation with Karsein.

──♪

The piano joined the softly flowing violin accompaniment in a beautiful melody. From the moment the hall filled with music, any time for talk had simply vanished.

"Claire."

"..."

Arina must have had plenty she wanted to say, but as if she understood that now was not the moment, she coolly shook her head.

It was time for Claire to open the ball by taking the first dance. It was also time for House Bagrand, the apex of the imperial aristocracy, to set the example.

There was no time to be scolding Karsein.

Claire, who had been scowling, somehow gathered her expression and suppressed her fury.

"Shall we have a dance, Lady Claire?"

"...Yes."

And so, with her first partner, she began the dance that heralded the official start of the banquet.

On the surface, it was a flawless opening. But whenever her eyes happened to roll toward Karsein mid-step, the light in them would shift, moment by moment.

'He really showed up at just the right time, didn't he.'

Karsein looked at the status window, utterly silent, and felt satisfied. If Claire had flown into a rage and lunged at him, that whole forest of dead triggers would have been snapped off in a single stroke.

He had also deftly dodged the nobles' gazes. Claire's first dance had naturally drawn everyone's attention, so not a single eye strayed toward Karsein.

Thanks to that, the scene of him being driven out by the nobles' stares never came to pass, erasing yet another risk entirely.

Still, he hadn't cleared every hurdle yet. Even with all the other triggers disarmed, one death flag still remained.

"You'll give me an explanation for this disgraceful conduct. No — let's call it an excuse. Karsein."

Even amid all this, there was one person whose eyes remained fixed on him alone.

Blue eyes set against crimson hair, radiating an aura as if they might fire off lasers at any moment. The eldest, Arina, had pinned him with an icy glare.

Arina had said she wanted to hear not an explanation, but an excuse.

It was, unmistakably, Karsein's fault. For failing to show his face at Claire's coming-of-age ceremony, she might well tear into him.

'Well, what can I do? I just have to handle this properly, that's all.'

Karsein asked, perfectly composed.

"Shouldn't we move somewhere else first? Doesn't seem like the place to talk about it."

When he tipped his chin toward Claire, Arina didn't deny it either. Mindful of their surroundings, she said only one thing: follow me.

Arina's box, carrying its 2% intimacy, began to glow.

CHAPTER 1 — Episode III: Claire's Coming-of-Age Ceremony. The single largest branching point in the entire game.

What made this episode unusual was that no matter what you did, you could not escape every member of the cast. There was no way to walk away clean.

He didn't know the reason, but that was how the system seemed to define it.

In other episodes, choices clearly designated as the "correct answers" existed, so with enough retries you could steer into a proper route.

But this episode had no right answers at all. Either you faced a hall of nobles whose boxes were all gray — signifying intimacy in the negatives, far past even white — or you caused a scene and ended up facing Isabella or the three daughters of the duchy. No exceptions. It was mandatory.

So there was only one path. He simply had to pick the option with the least risk.

Dealing with the nobles was a trap — the situation could easily be twisted into a story of Karsein causing a disturbance. Obviously out.

Explaining himself honestly to Claire was useless. Her intimacy sat so deep in the negative that things would only fracture worse than they already were. That route was poison.

Then what about Flora? He held leverage over her now, so surely it would be fine? One might think so. But that wouldn't work either.

Because if he went to Flora during her timeframe, he'd end up facing not one of them, but two.

-Sis, I saw him! He was hiding on purpose, I'm telling you!

If it was that girl — for whom lying was practically a passive skill — she could blow his fault wildly out of proportion, and given that he held a secret of hers, there was nothing stopping her from smoothing it all over however she liked.

'Besides, Flora and Claire come as a set. The moment you deal with both of them, it's an express bus straight to the bad ending.'

Next, Isabella.

She was the one whose intimacy had stayed in the 30% range, so it seemed plausible she might actually hear Karsein out...

'But I can't accept confinement this time. It would sever my promise with Harnie.'

If he chose Isabella to minimize risk, a choice would pop up where he admitted his fault and requested house arrest as his punishment.

Now that he had plans of his own, confinement was no longer a safe outcome.

And so, just as he had in the game, Karsein found himself facing Arina — the option he'd judged to carry the least risk.

Following Arina brought him to a lounge for guests. Right now, only the two of them were there: Karsein and Arina.

The moment he stepped into the room, she ordered the maids to shut the door, then immediately turned a frigid gaze on him and spoke.

"First, explain yourself. What are you wearing?"

Here we go.

It was a question no different from any other.

The choices began scrolling upward one by one. He answered calmly.

First — defiance.

"What do you mean, what am I wearing?"

Arina's brow knitted tightly.

"You're asking because you don't know? You're a member of the ducal house. My brother. I'm asking why you showed up in a servant's uniform."

So that's how she's playing it, huh.

"They got dirty this morning? There were people right here in the duchy who could've made me new ones. I'm staying a full day, so even without laundry they could have sewn me something fresh."

"Is there some reason you couldn't wear them?"

"Karsein. Don't play games with me. One single word — one request for new clothes — and this would've passed without a hitch. But because your precious pride wouldn't let you say it, you waltzed into a hall packed with nobles dressed like that?"

He could feel every ounce of pressure packed into her voice.

This was a serious matter entangling both family and house, and one wrong word and she looked ready to strike him where he stood.

And then, the timing arrived — a choice slotting into place perfectly.

"What difference does it make if I wear new clothes?"

"Karsein. Keep your private matters private. This is a banquet bearing the family's name. This is public ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠— a matter of the Bagrand ducal house."

"So I'm asking again — what difference would new clothes make? I did exactly what I was told to do, once before. A warning handed down to me by none other than Arina Bagrand herself."

"A warning?"

Arina tilted her head, genuinely bewildered.

She said it herself — and she treated Karsein with such callousness — and now she doesn't remember?

It wasn't his business, but if he'd truly been Karsein, his voice would have climbed a few octaves by now. In fact, the choices themselves reflected exactly that.

A line asking how she could possibly not remember saying such a thing.

An expression of laughing out loud at the sheer absurdity of it.

A description of trembling with rage, grinding his teeth.

Every one of them radiated Karsein's sense of injustice. And yet, curiously, because he had watched all of it through the Memories, he found himself slipping into the role — and instead of getting angry, his mind went ice-cold.

That was probably why he could keep his tone even colder still.

"You said it three years ago. That someone like me wasn't your brother. That I wasn't family."

"...What?"

"Even that I shouldn't dare call you 'sister.' I remember every word, down to the last syllable. And now you tell me to attend a coming-of-age ceremony? Then at some point I'd have to call one of you 'sister,' wouldn't I? Whichever of the two it happened to be."

"Three years ago... that was my coming-of-age ceremony. Wasn't that the day you caused a scene?"

"Right. Right. I caused a scene. On the day of someone's coming-of-age ceremony, just like today — I beat the hell out of one of the young lords and threw the whole atmosphere into chaos. Dragged the family's honor through the mud. Ruined a sibling's coming-of-age. And while making a spectacle of myself in every way, I screamed at the top of my lungs about how unfair it all was."

He didn't need to name who that "someone" was. She would know perfectly well it was her.

He answered with his shoulders squared, even making a show of tugging his collar straight a couple of times.

"So isn't this outfit just perfect for the occasion? If everyone mistakes me for a servant, I can't cause any trouble. The nobles won't say a word, and I'll never have to call anyone 'sister.' I won't get ganged up on and beaten by a crowd, screaming about how unfair it is. What a relief, right? The family's one and only stain has finally vanished."

"What... did you say?"

"I did my best not to ruin Claire's coming-of-age. I called for Heron and tried my hardest not to cross paths with the nobles at all. I did everything you wanted — and this is what I get chewed out for?"

The blue gaze that had been searing into him, terrifyingly sharp, softened in an instant.

At the same time, a heavy silence settled over the room. Those few short seconds felt as if they stretched into minutes.

He had no way of knowing what Arina was thinking within that silence. And this scene — in the game, this was the final scene. There was no dialogue after it.

He couldn't see what expression Arina wore behind her fallen bangs, but he turned away just as the original story dictated, opened the door of the lounge, and brought the conversation to a close.

"Pretty unfair, don't you think? I only did exactly what you told me to. Arina Bagrand."

-Click. Thud.

The clear screen he'd wanted had finally appeared.

He'd seized the branching event cleanly, and despite the risks, he'd come out no worse for wear.

Clearing the episode had even nudged intimacy upward without a hitch — by all rights, this was a moment to celebrate.

"Fuck. God, I feel like garbage."

His mood wasn't improving at all.

Because the memories of him — of Kim Minhyuk — kept surfacing.

"A family member's birthday. Yeah, well. I suppose that's not something you'd forget. Not when you've got people who care enough to make a day of it."

Karsein might have envied it for years. A luxurious hall, guests ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠beyond counting, a single day of being showered with blessings.

Maybe, just maybe, something like that could happen to him too. They were family, after all — surely someday, once, he'd get to stand in a place like that too.

He must have been clinging to that picture.

...Once upon a time, so had I.

That was why they never noticed, no matter how many years passed. Even when something felt off, they would never go so far as to ask someone else about it.

And even the answer to that question — forget hearing it; they wouldn't dwell on the thought for long before letting it slip away again.

A predictable future. Because in the first place, they had never been family.

'Cake... right. Well. Might as well take some with me.'

He cut into the cake the guests had left half-finished, packed it up, and carried it out with him.

He knew perfectly well it was a foolish thought. Here he was, on a day this important, about to burn every remaining hour drowning in his own sentimentality.

But knowing it was foolish didn't change anything.

What was he supposed to do when it felt like he was staring at his own past self?

Perhaps it was a small wish — that at least inside the head of this outsider named Karsein, the memory might be kept alive. Perhaps he was indulging in nothing more than a hollow outpouring of feeling, hoping it might make him a little less lonely.

Even after Karsein had left, Arina remained in the lounge for quite a while, wearing an unreadable expression.

"He remembered everything that happened three years ago."

It had been a day no different from today. It was her own birthday — and likewise her coming-of-age ceremony, where distinguished guests and visitors had thronged to offer their congratulations.

It was the day Karsein knocked down one of the noble young lords, the commotion spread all the way through the hall, and the entire atmosphere warped.

And yet, strangely, Arina could barely recall the events of that day.

That Karsein had caused trouble. That the worst possible disaster — the ruin of her coming-of-age ceremony — had occurred. Set aside those two facts, and she couldn't remember what that day had actually been like.

"I said that? To him?"

Even the things she'd said to Karsein back then.

With a faint sigh, Arina murmured, as if resigning herself.

"No. There's no way to be certain any of that was true."

Because, as always, it was possible Karsein had simply put lies into words.

She could seek out someone who remembered that day and press them directly... but there was no real need.

What good would it do to dredge up memories of a coming-of-age ceremony she'd ruined anyway?

Compare that with today.

Nothing had happened. Unlike her own ceremony, Claire's coming-of-age had proceeded naturally, without a single disturbance.

"That's right. I'll admit you did your best in your own way. So this whole matter, I can simply let pass."

It was true that his eyesore of an outfit had grated on her when he showed up at the banquet hall — but the fact that no accident had come of it left room for leniency.

All's well that ends well.

Right. No commotion. Everything went smoothly.

She should have been spending the rest of the evening content, telling herself it had all worked out fine.

"...Why does this feel so unsettled, then?"

A strange disquiet creased Arina's brow.

She felt as though she was missing something. As though she'd forgotten something she must not forget...

"Sis?! Haah, so this is where you were."

"Claire? What's got you in such a hurry?"

"Never mind that. How did it go? That bastard."

Going by the time, she must have finished the first dance ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠only moments ago. That she'd come running instead of enjoying her own coming-of-age ceremony said everything about how much had built up.

The explanation didn't take long. Arina recited it like a schoolbook lesson — that he'd worn those clothes so as not to repeat his sins of three years ago, so as not to ruin Claire's coming-of-age ceremony.

"What the hell is that. That idiot bastard. He really is a blockhead."

The moment Claire heard it, she apparently couldn't hold back her irritation any longer — her face crumpled at once.

12:35 a.m.

Thirty-five minutes since her birthday had begun.

"I'm going back. This is no fun at all."

In the end, even with her own birthday finally arriving, Claire decided to leave.

"Tell Mother and Flora before you go."

"I already told them, obviously. But..."

As if something more irritating still remained, Claire scratched roughly at her swaying pink hair. This was a girl who absolutely despised her hair going astray — and yet she couldn't help it. Something unresolved was gnawing at her.

"Sis. There's something that's been bugging me."

"What is it now?"

"...Yesterday. About yesterday."

"Yesterday? Claire, you can't just leave it at that."

"Ah — that, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the day I was preparing for my coming-of-age ceremony."

"Got it. What about that day?"

"Was something supposed to have happened that day? I can't remember."

It was the exact same unease Arina had been turning over in her own mind — a disquiet about December 31st.